


attitude reconstruction

by poisonpeaches



Category: Uta no Prince-sama
Genre: Armpit Kink, BDSM, F/M, Feathers & Featherplay, Femdom, Gangbang, Humiliation, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Nipple Play, Non-Consensual Tickling, Shibari, Tickle torture, Tickling, Verbal Humiliation, bellybutton kink too but apparently there's no tag for that fuck y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:01:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22951417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisonpeaches/pseuds/poisonpeaches
Summary: Yamato’s day off quickly becomes a nightmare after he is expertly fooled into believing he’s just signing an autograph for a fan, who’s hiding some tricks up her sleeve. Turns out, this “fan” didn’t come alone, and she and her friends share a very specific fantasy involving Yamato - and he’s going to help them make it a reality, whether he wants to or not.
Relationships: Hyuuga Yamato/Other(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	attitude reconstruction

**Author's Note:**

> i felt inspired to write this after seeing [this](https://www.deviantart.com/oujigami/art/attitude-reconstruction-829176355) drawing from deviantart user oujigami! this fic is tickle kink-centric with a particular emphasis on armpits and navel, so if that’s not your thing i’d advise you to read another fic, but if you still wanna give it a chance it’s not like i can stop you O|-<  
> DISCLAIMER: this is purely a fantasy scenario and does not reflect the real-world views of the author. anything resembling dubious consent within my works is for entertainment purposes only. please read take care when reading this story, and remember to always respect consent and boundaries!  
> 

Yamato was done being nice to fans. He hadn’t thought much of it when that girl had shyly approached him all flustered and asked him for an autograph. She seemed sweet. He was just doing his job. How was he supposed to know that the girl who couldn’t make eye contact with him for more than two seconds without becoming a blushing red mess had something much more evil in mind? How was he to guess that she was merely creating a diversion for a _multitude_ of fangirls, all of whom sneaked up behind him and flung some cuffs around his wrists, thrust a gag into his mouth?

 _Never again_ , Yamato thought as they tossed him into the trunk of a car.

“Comfortable back there?” the apparent ringleader of the group, the one who had initially asked him for the autograph and was currently driving the car, asked him from the driver’s seat. She chuckled when she heard the thumping of his body against the car floor as he tried to remove his bonds. “Don’t worry, this isn’t a kidnapping or anything, we’ll drop you back at home once this is all done… we just had to haul you off to a more private area. Couldn’t raise anyone’s suspicions.”

Muffled protests sounded from the gag. “Oh hush. My girls and I have been dreaming about this for practically a lifetime, don’t ruin it for us.”

“Eriko, can I do the shibari now?” chirped another girl, who was seated next to Yamato in the trunk and clutching a bundle of rope. “It’ll take me a while, and I don’t wanna take up too much time doing it once we get there.”

“You’re the shibari expert, Sana,” the ringleader, apparently named Eriko, said. “If it means we each get more time with him, then by all means go for it.”

“Yay!” the rope-wielding girl - Sana - cheered. Yamato struggled once he saw her beginning to tie knots into the rope, but Sana easily straddled him, limiting his movement. “Shhh, it’s okay. Just calm down, okay? It’ll be over soon,” she cooed, starting to peel off his shirt and pants before tying the rope around his bare chest. She was a small girl, but clearly knew what she was doing - each knot she tied was _tight_. Yamato could just barely twist from side to side. Her voice was soft and sweet, one Yamato would have found soothing in any other situation, but now it just added another layer of discomfort to what he was already feeling.

Within what felt like hours, but was probably really about twenty minutes, the elaborate crosshatch of bondage was the _only_ thing Yamato was wearing. He whimpered into the gag as Sana playfully flicked the pink bud at the tip of his cock, which already danced for her in anticipation. “Good news, ladies; he’s just as big as we imagined,” she called out to her cohort. Yamato clenched his eyes shut, face and ears ablaze in embarrassment. “ _And_ he’s getting hard already.”

Eriko giggled, stopping the car. “Fantastic. Let’s get him out of here - no one’s around, there’s no chance of us being seen.”

The trunk was swung open and suddenly, Yamato was being hoisted into the air and marched off. Yamato wasn’t by any means a light person, unusually tall and muscular for someone in his line of work, but it couldn’t have been too difficult to carry him when it was probably twelve - he didn’t have the time or mental energy to count them, but he estimated it was twelve - girls all together. Oh yeah, his fucking limbs were immobile, too.

The entire situation was too shocking for Yamato to even fully register what was happening, but before he knew it, he was suspended from the ceiling, still in his shibari, in a musty room that aside from him and his adoring fans was completely empty. He deduced from his surroundings that he was most likely in an abandoned warehouse, but the setting didn’t really matter. What mattered was how the _hell_ he was gonna get out of here, and just what in God’s name these girls were gonna do to him now that they had him completely at their beck and call.

“Lord, have mercy.” Eriko stood in front of him, her arms crossed over her chest. In spite of everything, Yamato found his eyes wandering towards her breasts - they weren’t large, but they were perky. He mentally begged his cock to settle down, lest these fucking freaks think he was actually enjoying this.

Eriko smiled and clapped her hands together - he wasn’t sure if she was admiring his body, or Sana’s handiwork, or both, but either way, she clearly liked what she saw. “God, you’re just as hot as I thought you’d be… no, better, actually. I have to hold myself back from just going crazy on you right away.” She licked her lips as her brown eyes scanned his naked body, flickering with hunger. Yamato found it hard to believe that she’d been nervously toying with her hair and stammering while talking to him just less than an hour ago. Christ, she was a convincing actress.

“Aya, could you remove his gag for me? I’d like to hear him, please.”

Another member of the group, presumably Aya, approached him - she was the tallest of the bunch, probably just two or three inches shorter than Yamato himself, with massive, bulbous breasts that swayed when she walked. Aya gently held his chin beneath her fingers and carefully removed the silicone sphere from between his teeth. All the drool that had been pooling in his mouth up until that point rushed past his lips and dribbled onto the floor as he gasped for breath.

“Thank you, love. Now then.” Eriko turned back to the gasping, sputtering, and coughing Yamato. “You probably wanna know why we’ve brought you here, yeah?”

Yamato swallowed thickly, tugging at his bonds. It was useless - Sana really _was_ a shibari expert, just as Eriko had called her earlier. “Wh-who are you people… what the fuck do you want from me..!”

“It’s simple, really. My name’s Eriko, as you’ve already heard, and these are my friends. We’re… fans, you could say. But we’re not fans of your music so much as we are…” She licked at her canine teeth, which were notably sharp. “Your body.”

“You sick fucking freak… get me out of here!”

“Let me finish or I’ll have Aya gag you again,” Eriko snapped. It succeeded in shutting him up. “My girls and I… we’ve been watching you. For a while. We first saw you and your group perform on TV, at that… Triple S concert, was it? I don’t fucking remember. Like I said before, it’s not your music that draws me to you. I’m not the biggest fan of idol culture. But you, Yamato… you could almost change that for me.” She grinned at him. “But I digress. The minute I saw you wearing that skimpy outfit, just showing off those sexy arms and pits like it was nobody’s business… it sparked something in me. Certain… desires.”

Yamato blinked. Did she say… pits? He was no stranger to people finding muscular arms attractive, especially his own, but to be titillated by _armpits_ … that was a new one. In any case, he really, _really_ didn’t wanna get gagged again, so he didn’t question her and just let her continue.

“I’ve been learning about you. Doing research. Almost to an obsessive extent. I know everything there is to know about you. I know that you love exercising and taking care of yourself, but I also could have probably determined that myself, I mean, a body this gorgeous can’t be natural. Oh, and you’re often described by your peers as… aggressive? Brutish? Headstrong?” Eriko clucked her tongue, feigning disappointment. “Perhaps my girls and I can teach you to loosen up a little.”

The ominousness of that statement had Yamato breaking into a sweat. In the heat of the moment, he forgot all about Eriko’s threats of re-gagging him. “What the fuck does that mean? Swear to God, I’ll fuck you bitches _up_ once I get out of here!”

“My, is that any way to talk to a lady?” Eriko pouted. “You’re just as abrasive as they said you were. Don’t worry though, I won’t gag you again. I want to hear your pure, unfiltered laughter.”

“Laughter? What are you - ”

No time to finish his sentence. No time for her to answer his question. No time for him to even register the sight of her approaching him, nor her hands reaching up his outstretched body towards his exposed underarms. Just the sudden feeling of her fingertips drilling into his armpits.

Eriko had said she wanted to hear pure, unfiltered laughter - well, that’s exactly what she got. Yamato’s reaction was immediate, at first yelping out in surprise, then choking back a few giggles, and finally, allowing loud, boisterous laughter to flow from his mouth freely. Satisfied with this reaction, Eriko didn’t relent for even a second, her fingertips increasing in both speed and precision as she spread them out further across the clean, sweaty skin.

Nothing, absolutely nothing, could have ever prepared Yamato for this. The minute he felt himself getting restrained he knew these women were up to no good. But this is the last thing he would have imagined that they had in mind. His voice was all over the place as Eriko’s fingers expanded, causing uncontrollable ticklish sensations to ripple through each and every inch of his unprotected armpits.

“Fffhh- pffhaha wait! Wait wait wahahait nooohohoho! Y-Yeeheehehyahaha!”

“Ooh, so you _are_ ticklish,” Eriko purred, switching from lightly petting his armpits to curling her fingers so her nails softly scratched at his skin, which caused an entirely new sound to come out of him. “I mean, I can usually guess if someone is or not. I wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of snatching you up and tying you down like this if I didn’t think you really were. So I can’t say I’m surprised; however I’m pleased to know that my suspicions were correct.” Her fingers burrowed deeper and deeper into the sensitive hollows, making Yamato cry out. “Oh, if the rest of your body is as ticklish as these slutty pits, I feel bad for you. Not enough to stop, though.”

“PFFF-HEHAHA!!! N-Nohohoho please! N-Not… not thi… GYAHAHAHA!”

“Aww, does it tickle? Are you ticklish? Hmmmm?” She softened the tone of her voice, such that the words seemed to melt from her mouth, and switched her method so that she was now dragging her nails down the length of his underarms, softly, torturously, rather than incessantly spidering them all over the place. Somehow, the patronizing baby talk seemed to make it tickle even worse.

“D-Don’t… DON’T… Dohohohon’t fucking sahay shit like thahat ehegyahaha oh my fucking Gohohod! Don’t patronize mehehe!”

“Oh, I think you want this,” she cooed, increasing the speed of her fingers again. “That’s why you wore that outfit at that stupid concert, right? You knew I’d see you and fall in love with your sweaty, disgustingly ticklish pits. You did it on purpose 'cause you _knew_ this was gonna happen. You were _waiting_ for it.”

“I WASN’T,” Yamato pleaded, his resolve cracking more and more with each flick and twitch of Eriko’s nimble fingertips. He didn’t care anymore if he appeared weak or unmanly; he just wanted the tickling to _stop_. “I WASN’T I WASN’T I WAHAHAHASN’T I SWEHEHEAR!!!”

“No body hair, huh? That surprises me… You’d think such a barbaric ruffian as yourself would be covered in it. I guess your line of work requires you to get rid of it all, hm? Not that that’s a bad thing… your hair would probably just get in the way, and you’d be less ticklish, even if just a little…”

“FFFFWAHAHA FUCK OHOHOFF!!! PFFTAHAHAHA!!!!”

“Hey, Eriko, you’re hogging him,” one of the other girls called out. “We’ve all been fantasizing about this too; it’s not fair that you’re the only one who gets to tickle him.”

“I’m not hogging _anything_ ,” Eriko responded coldly, without looking away from Yamato or ceasing the rapid tickling of his armpits. “ _You_ guys are the ones who are just standing there doing _nothing_. The whole point of this was to tickle him as intensely as possible, which involves having as many people tickling him at once as possible. If I wanted him all to myself, I wouldn’t have even invited you to come with me. So if you guys wanna come up here and do what you came here to do, literally _nothing_ is stopping you.”

Just those few sentences, though spoken without raising her voice once, sounded so intimidating and domineering coming from Eriko’s mouth. It was no wonder she was the one in charge of this posse, Yamato thought.

Sana, the petite, bubbly one who had tied the shibari, jumped up with glee at this. “Dibs on his bellybutton!”

“If Sana gets the bellybutton, I’m taking the feet. As long as I don’t have to use my hands to do it. They’re probably gross and sweaty from all that working out he does,” a girl with blonde hair piped up.

“Ooh, good idea, Shina. Miko, did you remember the tools?”

Miko, a girl with dark skin, nodded and held up a large briefcase. “Wouldn’t forget it for anything, boss.” Miko handed the briefcase off to Shina, the blonde, who practically snatched it from her, gazing at it with as much wonder and excitement as a child being handed a wrapped Christmas present. “While she does that, can I help you with his pits? They look like they could use a bit more attention.”

“Yeah. You and Nao both can help me out, actually. Oh, and Shina, darling, hand me a couple of those brushes from that case, will you? He’ll get bored if I just use my hands the whole time.”

Just the mere _thought_ of soft bristles lightly caressing his sensitive skin was enough for Yamato to break into a panic, attempting yet again in vain to pull his arms down to cover his vulnerable pits. He had never been properly tickled with anything other than human hands - even those attacks had never lasted long - but he could already imagine what the brushes would feel like, and knew he wouldn’t enjoy it. “NO! NOHOHO PLEASE NOT THAT!”

“We,” Eriko tapped his nose lightly, “call the shots here.”

Miko and a tan girl, supposedly Nao, took their positions behind him, their soft hands pawing at his unprotected armpits in the same way Eriko had done just before. Meanwhile, Eriko, now equipped with a fluffy brush in each hand, began to gently swipe the bristles back and forth against the outskirts of his underarms, as if she was dusting off his skin.

His premonition about the brushes being especially brutal was in fact correct. He cackled uncontrollably as the brushes combined with the _two_ pairs of hands attacking his sensitive armpits continued. “FF- MMMHAHAHA!!! N-NAHAHAHAHA!!! FAHAHAHA!!!!!”

Sana had taken a brush for herself as welll with Yamato’s body hanging several feet off the ground, she was so small that her face was level with his navel. “Ooh, an innie, how cute,” she gushed, gingerly tracing the rim of his umbilicus with a single finger. Yamato hadn’t even known it was a weak spot for him, but this motion alone was enough to cause his breath to hitch, his toes to curl and his body to spasm.

“I’ve always wondered what your bellybutton looks like, Yamato… I almost thought I’d never get to see it, much less in person, since you keep it hidden all the time,” she sighed dreamily like it was a precious gem or rare treasure she was gazing upon. To her, it was indeed both of those things. “So selfish of you… but I forgive you. It was worth the wait.” She slipped her finger in and gently wiggled it around. Yamato let out a gasp, half in shock that she was going in for the kill right away and half in ticklish hysteria. “You should show it off more often. It’s way cuter than I thought it would be, and I don’t think I’m the only person who deserves to see it. Ever considered wearing crop tops?”

“NOHOHO! NO FUHUHUCK YOU! G-Gehehegyahaha! Get your fihihinger ohohout of there you crazy fuhuhucking bitch!”

“You’re securely tied down and I’m tickling you without mercy, and you have the guts to call me a crazy fucking bitch?” Sana cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, well. You want me to take my finger out, so I’ll do that, I guess.”

The finger was swiftly replaced with the brush. Yamato had thought it tickled when used on his armpits, but having Sana ruffle and sweep the very tiny circumference of his umbilicus had to be Yamato’s own personal hell. He was sure of it. He arched his back, bonds rattling as he tried to escape the tickling that wasn’t stopping any time soon.

“NONONONONO I’M SORRY I’M SORREHEHEHEHEEEEE,” he begged. “I’M SOHOHOREHEHEEE I DIDN’T MEAN IT PLEHEHEASE JUST NO MORE TICKLING!”

As Sana continued to brush him mercilessly, Yamato noted that not only was she short enough to be face-to-face with his navel in his current position, but also that his cock was level with her breasts. They weren’t massive, but still considerably rather big for someone of her stature. His erection twitched happily and pushed against Sana’s cute, perky rack, much to his dismay. She giggled. “You can say _no more_ and _stop_ aaaall you want, big boy, but that massive boner is telling me a whole 'nother story.”

As Sana continued to stroke his navel and the three girls at his upper half continued to go absolutely hog wild on his pits, Shina knelt on the ground right behind him, firmly clutching a rough hairbrush in each of her hands. “Oho, you are _in_ for it, you dumb jock,” she hissed, grinning maniacally as she placed the bristles of each brush onto the balls of his bare feet.

He didn’t even have time to process that an object had been pressed to his soles before she began to scrub them rapidly, maneuvering the brushes up and down and up and down at such a fast pace that Yamato would have thought she was trying to scrub his skin clean off - and quite frankly, he might have even preferred that to the tickling.

Yamato screamed. He screamed at the top of his lungs. He had never even used a hairbrush on his own hair, let alone been tickled with one, but the sensation of it was definitely something he would have liked to have been kept in the dark about.

“I’m surprised he even still has feeling in his feet, they’re so _calloused_ ,” Shina reported to the others. “I’m not complaining though, check out how loud he screams when I do _this_!” She focused the brushes on the spot right beneath his toes, scouring away with insane vigor. Just as she’d said, Yamato let out an animalistic howl, trying to curl his toes in to protect himself.

One by one, more and more members of the group stepped forward to claim their own little plot of territory on the map of his brawny body. He was too caught up in the ongoing tickle torture to even fully notice them when they approached him, his mind too nonplussed to keep track of who was wielding what tool or tickling what part of him, but he sure as hell felt them.

His stomach. His ribs. His thighs. His sternum. Every inch of him was a slave to these women, and Yamato couldn’t do anything about it other than stay there, suspended from the ceiling of some abandoned warehouse in the middle of buttfuck nowhere, and just take it. And laugh. He laughed and laughed to the point his throat was dry, tears bubbling at the corners of his eyes and drool dripping from his wide-open mouth. Yamato’s entire world had become very small, occupied only by his own naked body and the inescapable tickling that surrounded him.

Yamato gasped when he felt something soft, yet brisk and fleeting, drag along his puffy nipples that were already stiff as rocks. He looked up and found himself staring into the grinning maw of Aya, the tall, busty girl who had ensured he could scream so loud in his current predicament, who pointed two bright green feathers at his nipples, hovering just millimeters above them.

Yamato gulped at the implications of this, his lip quivering. “No… p-please… I’ll do anything… just, not there. Not that. Please.”

Eriko, who hadn’t let up on the brushing of his armpits, smiled at Aya in approval. “I think our course in attitude reconstruction is working, ladies. See how polite he is when he really, _really_ wants something?”

“So… I _don’t_ have to tickle his nips?” Aya asked, pursing her lips.

Eriko smirked at her before turning back to Yamato’s underarms, swiping the brushes across them like there was no tomorrow. “Up to you,” she said nonchalantly.

Well, it certainly didn’t take Aya long to make her decision. The blades of the feathers rapidly moved all around the delicate pink buttons, eliciting a guttural yelp before Yamato dissolved into a series of frenzied, manic guffaws. No one besides himself had ever touched that spot before, so he had no way of knowing if they were even sensitive, but learning that they were _ticklish_ was probably the worst discovery he could have made that day.

”N-NO! I-I CAN’T… I CAHAHAN’T TAKE IT… NOT THERE… mmngghh… aahnn… NOT THEHERE!!!”

“Oh? Pretty sure I just heard a moan,” Aya teased him, moving the feathers even faster.

As much as Yamato didn’t want to admit it even to himself, he most definitely had moaned. The tickling of his nipples was unbearable, but having such a sensitive, erogenous area caressed and fondled by someone other than himself for the first time was not entirely unwelcome or unwanted. It tickled so badly, but felt so good at the same time. A nagging voice at the back of Yamato’s head told him he’d feel disappointed if Aya were to stop.

“It’s true; he pretends he hates it, but check this out.” Sana tickled his bellybutton harder, pointing to his cock as it stood up higher and wiggled around for a bit like some sort of antenna before settling back down, though only a little as it still remained rigid.

Eriko, whom by now Yamato had determined was the most nefarious of them all, noticed it too, a renewed look of yearning flashing in her brown eyes. She handed one of her brushes to a red-haired girl who was currently tickling the flat spot between Yamato’s bulky pecs. “Kimi, take over his pits for me. I wanna see something.” Kimi gladly traded places with her. Yamato watched in horror as Eriko retrieved three more brushes from the briefcase.

“I’ve been neglecting this poor thing,” Eriko sighed, whisking the brush tip across the round, pink bulb at the head of his dick, which caused Yamato to cry out as an entirely new ticklish sensation rushed through his body like an electric shock.

He wasn’t sure if he loved or hated it anymore. The tickle torture was insufferable and humiliating, but he couldn’t help but experience a surge of arousal at the same time at having his most intimate spots stimulated. Part of him was desperate for it to stop, but another part of him was craving more. The conflicting feelings made his mind start to feel fuzzy, but his bulging length certainly wasn’t shy in making that decision for him, as it flung up to greet Eriko amicably as soon as it felt the plush hairs of her evil brush lick at its tip.

“I’m sorry, little one.” Hearing her speak in that degrading baby voice, to his fucking _penis_ of all things, made Yamato break out into an even brighter shade of red. “You must be so jealous that Yammy’s other body parts are getting more attention than you, right? It’s okay, though… we were only saving the best for last.”

She punctuated her statement with a long, ticklish stroke up his veiny shaft by one of the brushes. The corners of Yamato’s mouth dropped like a sad clown. He didn’t know how to react. He didn’t know anything could tickle this much. He didn’t know anything could feel so good. A particular heat began to spread through his entire body. What the fuck was happening to him?

“I’m going to tickle your cock _so_ good, Yammy baby. I’m not gonna stop for shit. I’m gonna tickle you until all you can think about is how bad it tickles. You’re gonna forget your own goddamn name by the time I’m done with you.” Eriko was growling at him, her voice getting deeper and rumblier with each word she spoke, but the more unhinged she sounded, the more his dick throbbed for her.

“NNGGHH… NYEEHEHEEHAHAHA!!!”

“You’re already so excited, I see. Well, it would be cruel to keep you waiting any longer. And I don’t know how much longer _I_ can keep waiting, either.”

Yamato didn’t even have the opportunity to beg before Eriko was suddenly using not just one, not even two, but _four_ of those horrible, god-awful brushes against poor Yamato’s pulsating cock, expertly managing to grip two of them in each hand - just how many other men had she subjected to this torment, how long had she been doing this to be able to master these fucking insane tickling techniques? How many other beefy, muscly celebrities had been so wisely tricked into thinking they were just doing something nice for a loyal supporter, only to fall victim to countless fingers, brushes, and feathers? It made Yamato’s anxiety skyrocket to think about, but he was abruptly pulled from his thoughts when those brushes began their descent upon him.

One of them traveled up and down the length of his thick shaft, skating up and down in a never-ending single file line. One swiveled and spiraled around his glans. One danced all around his, apparently, incredibly ticklish testes. One licked at and delicately teased his frenulum. None of them stopped, not even for a second.

Yamato’s response? Laughing. Crying. Screaming. Begging. Anything that could possibly convince Eriko to stop, though part of him knew it was hopeless.

“NOOOOHOHOHOHOHO!!!! SSHHTTAHAHAHAP!!!! PLEHEHEASE PLEASE NOHOHOHOT THERE!!!!!! ANYTHING, AHAHANYTHING BUT THAT I’LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING YOU WAHAHAHAHANT JUST DON’T FUCKING TICKLE ME THERE!!!!! GYYYEEEHAHAHAHA!!!!”

“Anything we want, he says. Hasn’t he learned by now that all we _want_ is to tickle him 'til the cows come home?”

“PLEHEHEHEASE I’LL GIVE YOU FREE MERCH, FREE VIP TICKETS, AHAHAHA-ANYTHIHIHING I JUST CAHAHAN’T FUCKING TAKE IT ANYMORE IT TICKLES SO FUHUHUCKING MUCH!!!!”

“We already established that I don’t care for you as a performer. As a tickle toy, though, you’ve been absolutely stellar.”

“PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE IT’S TOHOHOO MUCH HIIIYAHAHAHA!!!”

“What did you call us earlier? Sick fucking bitches, or something to that effect? I haven’t forgotten about that.” The brushes sped up.

“I’M SORRY I’M SOHOHOHORRY I WAS J-... I WAS JUST KIDDING… KEHAHAHA!!!!”

“I don’t think it’s funny.” The brush on his glans started narrowly focusing on the hole, making Yamato squeal.

“I’M SOHOHOHORRY I- HWAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!!!!!!”

“Mmhhn…” Eriko turned around at the sound of a moan coming from one of the other girls; sure enough, Aya had stripped to only her bra and panties, one of her hands currently buried under the latter and visibly fidgeting beneath the lacy pink fabric.

“I’m… sorry,” she groaned throatily. “He’s just… so fucking hot like this, and his nipples were so cute and ticklish and I just couldn’t… I couldn’t help myself.”

“Nnhhee..” Eriko looked down when she heard an even softer, higher-pitched moan. To her chagrin, Sana had taken the liberty of pleasuring herself too, biting down on her lower lip as one hand focused on the precise brushing of Yamato’s navel, the other being used to satiate her own cravings.

Eriko sighed in exasperation. “You too, Sana?”

“S-Sorry… She’s right though… he’s so fucking sexy… his bellybutton is perfect and… _ah_ , oh God,” she squeaked; at some point while talking she had evidently gotten herself another step closer to her climax.

It seemed Eriko didn’t want to linger on the topic for too long, lest she sacrifice having more time to work on tickling Yamato, so she simply rolled her eyes before returning to torture his cock relentlessly. “I suppose it’s fine; just as long as it doesn’t interfere with the task at hand.”

The feathers on his nipples worked faster. The brush in his navel burrowed deeper. The hairbrushes on his feet raked harder. The four hands and two brushes targeting his armpits worked beautifully in concert with one another to ensure that the weakest spot on his entire body was thoroughly explored and exploited. The tools and fingers on his torso and legs crawled about his naked form curiously to seek out only the most intense, the most desired, reactions. And worst of all, the absolute _worst_ of all of them, the brush tips on his dick and testes didn’t stop, didn’t slow down, didn’t suddenly change their tactic or switch to a different area. They just kept going, and going, and going.

Each of these girls had their own personalities, their own desires and likes and fantasies and wishes, and each of those was reflected in their tickling methods. No two girls tickled him the same way, but every single one of them tickled _badly_. And now, two of them were masturbating, pushing themselves closer and closer to their own release, reduced to desperate, horny messes completely lost in their own libidos, just at the mere sight of him being mercilessly tickled.

It was too much.

“Keep tickling him. Don’t stop no matter what.”

A familiar warmth began to pool in his gut.

“GEHEHEAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!!!!!!!!”

“No matter how loud he screams or begs. Keep going until he can’t laugh anymore.”

His dick was tingling, from more than just Eriko tickling it.

“MMM… NNGGGHYEHEHEHEHEEEE!!!!”

“Eriko, I think he’s about to-!”

Waves of pleasure rolled through him before being released in the form of hot, creamy liquid that shot out from his member.

“Don’t stop just because he came, ladies. They say the body gets even more ticklish post-orgasm, because your nerves are heightened.”

The last few drops of semen spurted from his still palpitating prick, rolling down his shaft like raindrops on a car window as he panted in the hopes of stealing back the air that was taken from him.

They still didn’t stop tickling him. Eriko was right - it was way worse than before. But Yamato no longer had the energy to cackle or screech or beg as he had just spent the past day of his life doing. Instead, he simply offered the girls a loopy, static smile, his chest and shoulders shaking with silent laughter as the amber irises of his tear-filled eyes rolled upwards into his head and, slowly but surely, he entered the world of the unconscious.

* * *

When Yamato stirred awake, he found himself in his own bed, his own room, his own apartment that he shared with the other six members of HEAVENS. He sat up, groaning as his eyes drifted to his alarm clock. It was just past 7PM. He must have taken a long nap - not something he usually did, but not entirely unheard of for him to do either. Oh well, it was his day off. If he was really feeling that tired, it was probably a good thing for him to get those extra hours of sleep in anyways.

“Mmm… crazy fuckin’ dream I had,” Yamato muttered to himself. He brought a hand up to comb through his bedraggled chartreuse hair, but something caught his eye that made him stop dead in his tracks.

Suddenly feeling much more awake than he had before, he lowered his hand and stretched both his arms out in front of him. Haloing each of his wrists was a ring of ridges and craters, tinted pink while the skin around them was a pale white - the unmistakable marking of a rope having been wrapped tightly around him. Yamato’s brows knitted together.

_Was it… not a dream?_

His eyes trailed back to his alarm clock and locked onto a tiny slip of paper that was folded on top of it. His lip twitched. Hesitantly, Yamato picked up the paper and opened it to find a handwritten message scrawled neatly with a black gel pen.

_See? I told you we’d bring you home in one piece. I’m not a complete psychopath. The door was locked when we got here, but one of your bandmates stupidly left the key under the mat, which is how we got in. No one was home and no one saw us either, so don’t worry about that. This was fun though - we should do it again sometime ;)_

Through the front side of the paper, Yamato could make out some more scribbles on the back peeking through. Tentatively, he flipped the note over. When he saw what was written on the back, he blinked, then, despite himself, his features gradually spread into a small smile.

Thankfully, they had left his phone on his nightstand, where he always kept it. Yamato reached for it and punched in a few numbers, every few seconds shifting his gaze back to the note to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. He chewed his lip nervously as he raised the phone to his ear, his stomach churning with a mix of fear and excitement when he heard it ringing. Then there was a click, followed by an all-too familiar voice greeting him with a polite, “Hello?”

Yamato felt his heart start to flutter against his rib cage. He took a deep breath, clutching the note tightly between his thumb and forefinger. “... Eriko?”


End file.
